


get in the shower if it all goes wrong

by lotts (LottieAnna)



Series: not necessarily necessary. [2]
Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, Hockey RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Friends With Benefits, M/M, Pining, Shenanigans, Weddings, ft. "kiss me" by sixpence none the richer and dylan strome's car, zany schemes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 01:34:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15377766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LottieAnna/pseuds/lotts
Summary: Ice hockey players are a very tall, very weird kind of human being. Louis kind of understands why Harry ended up with one.(Or: Willy and Harry are getting married. On an entirely unrelated note, love is in the air.)





	get in the shower if it all goes wrong

**Author's Note:**

> IF YOU FOUND THIS THROUGH GOOGLING, KNOW ANYONE MENTIONED IN THIS STORY PERSONALLY, OR ARE MENTIONED YOURSELF: please, please click away. This is a work of fiction and nothing written in this story is true. Any accurate information used in this story is publicly available information about public figures, the rest is made up, 100%. Please keep this work confined to fan spaces and away from the eyes of the people mentioned herein!
> 
> i guess??? i go here now??? i know sometimes life can be unpredictable but if you'd told me a few years back that the first thing i'd do after graduating is get really into one direction, i'd have been very confused. no one saw this coming, least of all myself, but 12k later, here we are. 
> 
> thanks to sarah for guiding this tomlinshaw spiral and story, ang for her veteran 1d fan feedback, and the iNCREDIBLE rachel for the beta/britpick. shoutout to the entire tlist for enabling me in various ways. title from harry styles quoting the 1975.

Louis had a few things he intended to do this weekend: go to Harry’s party, say hi to his new boyfriend, talk footie with Niall, and avoid Nick Grimshaw. 

In hindsight, maybe he should have realized things weren’t going to go according to plan when he ended up having sex with Nick Grimshaw on the plane ride over. 

Ah, well. Hindsight’s 20/20.

 

Look. Louis loves Harry. He loves him so much that he flew out to Canada to give his new boyfriend the Louis Tomlinson stamp of approval. He loves him so much that he’s not even going to chew him out for putting him on the same plane as Nick fucking Grimshaw, which had definitely been on purpose, and was, unfortunately, 100% successful, even if Harry does not, and hopefully never will, know that.

He’s gotta draw a line somewhere, though, and this seems like a solid place. 

“Haz,” Louis says, not bothering to keep the frustration out of his voice. “You can’t marry someone you’ve only been seeing for a few months.” 

“That’s what I’ve been telling him,” Nick says, which is largely unnecessary, considering that Nick’s telling him had done fuck all to change his mind, which is why Louis’s been brought into this at all. 

Harry just smiles at them. 

Louis loves this fond little weirdo, he really does, but he absolutely would punch him right now if he thought it would do any good and wouldn’t just make Harry go all pouty. 

“Aw,” Harry says. “You guys are getting along.” 

“That just shows how bad an idea this is, doesn’t it,” Louis says, wry. 

Harry shrugs, still smiling quite punchably. “I dunno.” 

“Clearly,” Nick says, barely under his breath, because he’s incapable of words not meant to be heard by everyone around him. 

“He’s sweet,” Harry says. “I like him loads.” 

Both of those things may very well be true. They probably are, actually— Louis’s met Will, and he’s clearly great and definitely loves Harry, but the problem is, he’s also exactly  _ like _ Harry. It’s probably going to lead to the end of the world, unless Niall manages to save them all. 

That thought gives Louis an idea.

“Does Niall know?” he demands.

Harry shakes his head. “Just us three, plus Will.” 

Louis turns to Nick. “Niall will help,” he says, ignoring Harry entirely. “He’ll make him see some sense.” 

“No,” Harry says quickly, eyes going wide. “Don’t tell Niall.”

“He’s gonna know eventually,” Louis says. 

“But—” Harry pouts. It’s obnoxiously effective. “There was a plan.” 

“Since when?” Nick grumbles. 

“What, a plan about telling Niall?” Louis asks, not dwelling on the way Nick’s irritated-gravelly voice works for him. It’s probably just conditioning, at this point. Another symptom of his very big Nick Grimshaw problem. 

Harry fidgets. “It’s a bigger plan than that.” 

“Explain,” Louis says, before Harry can get into whatever roundabout response he’s planning to give that doesn’t actually answer the question. He’s good at that, but Louis’s better at stopping it. 

Harry sighs. “We were thinking—Willy and I—about how it would be nice for Niall to have an event to take a date to, like a wedding, so we decided to— you know.” He shrugs. “Have one.” 

Louis doesn’t even bother trying to come up with words to explain how fucking ridiculous that idea is, and he probably doesn’t need them. He’s pretty sure his and Nick’s faces are saying it all. 

Harry at least has the decency to look sheepish. “He’s not gonna bring a date to a wedding he’s been asked to help call off.” 

“Hang on,” Nick says. “Why does Niall need a place to take a date so desperately?” 

“You don’t know about Shawn?” Harry says, looking between them. 

He’s met with two blank stares. 

“Oh, man,” Harry says, perking up a little. “You don’t know about Shawn.” 

“This a long story, then?” Louis asks. 

“Quite,” Harry says gleefully.

“We have time,” Louis says, and he shoots Nick a look that hopefully says,  _ you better have time, too,  _ as he sits down on the floor across from Harry.

It apparently works, because Nick takes a seat next to Louis and doesn’t voice any objection. 

 

It takes Harry a whole half an hour to get through it all. 

“So Niall fancies Shawn Mendes, and Shawn fancies him back, and they’re being stubborn about it,” Louis says. “That’s really all that’s going on here.” 

“But it’s been going on for  _ ages _ ,” Harry says. 

“I know,” Louis says, because Harry had given them a thorough account of the last few years of their friendship, paying special attention to the last few months, when things had apparently really heated up. The level of detail had been thoroughly unnecessary, but Louis suspects that had been due in large part to the fact that Nick’s shoulder had been pressed against Louis’s the entire time, and Harry wanted to drag that out. He is nothing if not persistent in his nosiness. 

“I’m sorry, but why do you think a wedding will change that?” Nick says. 

“Picture it,” Harry says. “They’re standing next to each other, having a lovely evening, when I stand up and tell everyone to quiet down so that Willy can let them know that we’re getting married tomorrow, and everyone here’s invited,” Harry says. “Then they’ll share a look, and when I remind everyone that they’ll need to bring a date—only a little bit seriously, I think—it’ll feel like destiny, for them.” 

“How do you even know that any of that will happen?” Nick says. “They might be across the room from each other.”

“Then they’ll lock eyes,” Harry says. “That’s the thing about destiny, right? Anything can be taken as meant to be, in the right circumstances.” 

Louis isn’t really paying attention to the conversation, because his mind is kind of stuck on one detail. “Tomorrow?” 

“What?” Nick says. 

“You said you’re getting married tomorrow,” Louis says, staring at Harry in horror. “Are you serious?” 

“Well, yeah,” Harry says. “That’s what the parties are for.” 

Louis blinks, stares at the ground for a second, and then, suddenly, an idea strikes him. “What if they got together without the wedding?” 

“What?” 

“There are a few hours left in this party,” Louis says. “What if they’re a proper couple by the end of the night? Will you call off the wedding?” 

“You’re not gonna be able to do it that fast,” Harry says. 

“But if I could,” Louis says, hearing the determination creep into his voice. 

Harry looks at him for a long, weird second, and Louis’s jaw is already starting to set, plans piecing themselves together in his head. 

“If you get them together by the end of the night,” Harry says, “then I won’t get married tomorrow.”

“Is that a promise?” Louis says. 

“Yes,” Harry says. “I promise.” 

Louis holds out his pinky, because he’s not gonna fuck around with this. Harry’s all sorts of flighty, but pinky swears are serious shit, and he respects that. 

Harry wanders back to the party, but Louis stays behind in the hallway, lost in his thoughts until he hears Nick clear his throat. He’d almost forgotten he was there, which is almost like progress, except now that he’s been reminded, he’s very aware of how close they’re still sitting. One step forward, two steps back, apparently.

“I thought you’d talk some sense into him,” Nick says, not quite accusing. 

Louis shrugs. “Sometimes it’s impossible,” he says. “Best to play by his rules, when he gets like that.”

“Right,” Nick says, and Louis wishes his eyes didn’t linger on Nick’s Adam’s Apple, and that his skin didn’t get all tingly at the feeling of Nick’s breath landing gently on his cheek. “What’re we gonna do, then?” 

Louis’s gaze moves traitorously to Nick’s lips, and for a second, the question sounds like something else entirely. The air is a little heavy, still, silent, and Nick’s face is far too close to Louis’s for Louis to really think about anything or anyone else. 

It takes more effort than he’d like to admit to tear himself out of the moment, but he manages. 

“A bit of matchmaking, is what I was thinking,” he says, standing up. He brushes off his trousers and pretends his face isn’t burning, and he definitely does not look at Nick, though he does offer him a hand to help him up. 

“You can’t be serious,” Nick says. 

Louis shrugs. “They already fancy each other, right? How hard could it be?” 

“If Cupid can do it, so can Louis Tomlinson, I suppose,” Nick says. 

“Precisely,” Louis says. “Now, come on, we’ve only got a few hours for strategy and execution.” 

“You make it all sound so official,” Nick says. 

“I take love very seriously,” Louis says. 

“You’re literally trying to break up a wedding.” 

“I’m saving my best friend from a bad marriage,” Louis says. “That’s real love, right there.” 

 

The most obvious choice is to approach Niall, except Niall is far too likable, so Louis has to break through a hoard of people he doesn’t know to get to him. 

“Tommo!” Niall shouts. “How are you, man?” 

“Quite well, thanks,” Louis says. “What’s going on over here?” 

“Just getting to know some of Will’s teammates,” Niall says. 

“Yeah?” Louis says. “Well, then, nice to meet you, I’m Louis.” 

“Morgan,” says the guy sitting on the other side of Niall, and Niall leans back as Louis reaches across him to shake hands. “You can call me Mo.” 

“Mo was just telling me that all the guys on the team love to play golf, when they’re not too busy with ice hockey,” Niall says, giving Louis a pointed look.

Under normal circumstances, Louis would relish the opportunity to tease Niall for his obsession with what is objectively the world’s most boring sport, but right now, he’s a man on a mission. “I’m sure Niall’s been talking your ear off about it, then,” he says, and then he turns to Niall. “I was actually hoping to talk to you alone for a minute.” 

“You can pull up a chair,” Niall offers.

“Ah,” Louis says. “I was hoping to talk about a private matter.” 

“Here?” Niall frowns. 

“Just figured that we’re not in the same place for all that long,” Louis says. “It’ll only be a second.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Niall says, patting Louis on the shoulder. He’s probably a little bit drunk. “Find me after the party, and we can catch up properly, okay?” 

That does sound nice, except for the ‘after the party’ bit, but Louis forces himself to give him a smile. “Sounds great, yeah,” Louis says. 

He ends up lingering for a few minutes, because he can’t be totally rude, and Niall insists on doing a shot to ‘friends old and new.’ Louis participates, because he does like Niall, and does need a drink, but he manages to duck out when the conversation returns to golf. Louis manages to shoot Niall a face that counts as enough teasing for him to be satisfied. 

Nick had wandered off to track down Shawn, which had been more of a backup plan, because Louis actually has some pull in Niall’s life. Nick has spoken to Shawn a few times, but as a radio host, and not as a scheming best friend, and it takes some kind of actual friendship to be able to say, ‘hey, please ask this guy out, we hear you’re into him and it will stop our friend from throwing his life away if you do.’”

Apparently, Nick’s having more success than Louis, because when Louis finds him, he’s talking to Shawn and some other guy that Louis doesn’t recognize. Or, more accurately, Nick and the other guy are talking, and Shawn seems to be politely listening in. 

“Hey there,” Louis says, walking up to the group, planting his feet in the spot next to Nick and directing his words at Shawn. “I didn’t know you’d be here.” 

Shawn does a double take, like he hadn’t expected Louis to address him. They’ve only met a few times, but they’re both friends with Niall—or, okay, everyone’s friends with Niall, but they’re close friends of his—and they’re at the same events from time to time. Louis thinks that’s enough to qualify them as acquaintances. 

“Oh, yeah,” Shawn says. “It’s actually kind of funny, I’m friends with a bunch of guys here, and obviously Harry’s been around Toronto more lately.” 

“Apparently he was key to the two of them getting together,” Nick says. “Mitch here was just telling me. Mitch, this is Louis Tomlinson. Louis Tomlinson, this is Mitch Marner.” 

“Sup,” Mitch says, shaking Louis’s hand. He’s got a firm grip, Louis notes, and immediately feels about 40 years older for it. “I’m a big fan of your stuff, by the way.” 

“Oh, thank you, that means the world,” Louis says a little absently, the response embedded in his brain by years of fame and fan meetings. “You’re Will’s friend, yeah?” 

He actually knows who Mitch Marner is, at least by name, because Harry has made him watch way too many ice hockey games, and Louis hadn’t really internalized much about the team, but Marner had stuck out to him solely based on the sheer number of times his name came up. The guy standing in front of him doesn’t look anything like what Louis would imagine a top ice hockey player to look like, but then again, neither does Will. 

“Yep,” Mitch confirms. “Willy’s a great guy, by the way, Haz is in good hands.” 

Louis doesn’t know if Mitch is actually close enough to Harry to be on a nickname basis with him, or if Mitch is just the kind of guy who uses nicknames for most people. He suspects it’s the latter. According to Harry, that’s a hockey thing. 

“I’m glad to hear it,” Louis says. “Do you two know each other through Harry, then?” 

“Nah,” Mitch says. “I just went to his concert, and he was super nice when we met backstage and stuff.” 

“I was kind of a fanboy,” Shawn admits. “I dunno. It’s still pretty cool that I get to actually be friends with the Leafs.”

“Dude, you’re literally so famous,” Mitch says. 

“Okay, but that doesn’t—” Shawn starts, but he cuts himself off, his eye catching on something. When Louis follows his gaze, he sees Niall, smiling at Shawn from across the bar like he’s the only one in the fucking room, and Shawn’s smile goes from wide to wider. 

It’s absurdly sweet. Louis’s not sure whether he wants to gag at it or, like, cry. 

“I’ll be back in a second,” Shawn says, like he’s fucking hypnotized, but he manages to tear his eyes away from Niall long enough to say, “It was nice seeing you— uh, yeah, see you around.” Then, he’s back to staring lovingly as he walks across the room. Louis is distinctly reminded of that cartoon skunk floating on a cloud of hearts towards its skunk-girlfriend, or skunkfriend, or lady skunk, or— whatever skunks call their lovers.

Nick looks hilariously disgusted. Louis is half tempted to take a photo. 

“Oh my god,” Nick says, and then he turns to Mitch. “Are they always like that?”

Mitch nods solemnly. “It’s pretty bad.” 

“Has anyone tried to talk to them about it?” Louis asks, because apparently Mitch is someone they can talk about this in front of.

“Shawn’s pretty shy,” he says with a one-shouldered shrug. “And I think they don’t wanna fuck shit up, so they just— do that.” 

“Pine,” Louis says, nodding slowly.

“It’s practically indecent,” Nick says, and he sounds like he’s legitimately offended. “They should be locked up in a honeymoon suite somewhere.”

Louis frowns. “Mitch, what do you think could get them together?” 

“Are you talking in general?” 

“More like in the next few hours,” Louis says. “If you think it’s possible.” 

“Ah,” Mitch says, nodding, even though Louis’s pretty sure that answer shouldn’t be satisfactory. “I’ve always said they just need the right opportunity. Like, put them in some super romantic situation, right? With flower petals, or slow music, or whatever. Y’know. One of those perfect, angels-singing moments.” 

“Like destiny,” Nick says. 

Louis thinks back to what Harry had said earlier. “I wish destiny could make an appearance before the end of this party,” he says. 

“Well,” Mitch says, “we could give destiny an assist.” 

“That sounds promising,” Nick says, raising his eyebrows. “Did you have something in mind?” 

“I think so,” Mitch says. 

“Perfect,” Nick says. “I like you.” 

Mitch smiles, like he’s used to hearing that. “I’m pretty good at romance, so.” 

“Guess we could use your expertise,” Louis says, and if he’s mildly irritated, it’s only because he didn’t approve a co-conspirator. It definitely doesn’t have anything to do with the approving look Nick is giving Mitch.

 

It’s a pretty straightforward plan: get Shawn and Niall dancing, then change the song to something slow. Louis is sure it’s the plot of some romantic comedy, or possibly many romantic comedies, but he figures that just means it’s effective, so he goes along with it. 

There’s the issue of there not being any actual dance floor, but that’s surprisingly easy to overcome. The bar has been rented out, the tables can be moved, and there’s no soundboard, but there is an aux cord, which Nick can work with, apparently. 

“I have playlists for things like this, you know,” Nick says. 

Louis raises his eyebrows. “You have playlists already made for when you’re trying to set up two people who are already mad about each other in order to stop a wedding?” 

“I meant for parties in general,” Nick says, rolling his eyes. “I am a DJ, you know.” 

Louis does know, is the thing, but he doesn’t get to see this part of Nick’s job all that much. He’s seen him do the radio thing, listened more than he’ll ever admit to, but even watching Nick edit a Spotify playlist feels like being behind the scenes, seeing the inner workings of Nick Grimshaw. He’s got his brow furrowed, his tongue caught between his teeth, and he reminds Louis a little bit of a painter, meticulously making small changes, stepping back to see the whole painting, then changing the small change in an even smaller way before repeating the whole process over and over. 

It’s not quite that intense, because it’s just a playlist, but still, it’s an intimate kind of skilled focus, and it’s kind of hard to look away. Louis doesn’t even realize he’s staring until Nick glances up at him. Louis feels weirdly caught, and he opens his mouth a little to defend himself, but he doesn’t really know what he would even say, so he just bites his lip.

“What?” Nick says, wry and a little amused. 

There’s a softness in his eyes that makes Louis’s cheeks heat up, and Louis isn’t sure if he’s annoyed or embarrassed or what. 

“Dunno,” Louis says, shrugging and trying to look casual, even though he’s feeling anything but. “Just think you should hurry up with that.” 

“At least give me a few minutes before you get impatient,” Nick says, chuckling a little as he goes back to reordering the songs. 

Louis’s honestly not sure if Nick’s taking a long time or not, because he’s not sure how long this should take, and also not sure how quickly time is passing. Seconds seem to pass slower, when he’s counting them in the way Nick’s tongue is absently tracing over his lips. 

It’s scary, the way everything slows down, and Louis desperately needs it to come back up to speed. 

“I was thinking,” Louis says, stepping closer to Nick, because that gets his blood pumping a little faster. “While they’re all busy dancing, we could— y’know.” He waggles his eyebrows. 

“What, here?” 

“We could find a cupboard or something,” Louis says. He sneaks his hands under the hem of Nick’s shirt, gratified by the way Nick’s breath hitches. 

“There would be time,” Nick says slowly. “It’s Mitch’s job to make sure they’re dancing.” 

“We’d just have to be back for the final song,” Louis says. 

“And be careful to not get caught,” Nick says. 

“Other than that, we’re free to do—” He puts a knee between Nick’s thighs, lowers his voice. “Whatever.”

“Whatever sounds like a lot of fun,” Nick says. 

Louis steps back, pleased with the way Nick’s cheeks go from pink to red. “Then hurry with that playlist, yeah?”

Nick huffs, but the look of concentration on his face has mostly dissipated as he quickly finishes it up. 

 

The actual dancing starts with a few words from Nick, followed by some enthusiastic participation from Harry and Will, who drag various guests with various degrees of enthusiasm out with them. Everyone clears space, and once the dance floor has established itself, Nick and Louis sneak away. They even manage to find a single user bathroom, which has the benefit of a locking door, and it’s not the cleanest place Louis’s ever had sex, but it’s also not the dirtiest, so he’ll take it. 

It’s honestly embarrassing, the way Louis doesn’t even have to look as his hands find Nick’s belt buckle, because he’s undone his trousers so many times he just knows where it is on instinct; it’s embarrassing that Louis knows what underwear Nick is wearing based on the feeling of the fabric against his hand. It’s embarrassing that he knows exactly which side of his neck Nick’s going to kiss before he kisses it, and it’s embarrassing that he knows exactly what noises each stroke of his hand are going to get out of Nick, and it’s embarrassing that he knows exactly when Nick’s going to come by the way he tilts his head back half a degree. 

Mostly, it’s embarrassing that Louis has theoretically been trying to stop sleeping with Nick Grimshaw for months, but Nick has no fucking clue, because Louis’s done a really bad job of not sleeping with him. 

“Thanks,” Nick says, a little dazed, as Louis washes Nick’s come off his hand. “Want me to do you?” 

“Nah,” Louis says. “Don’t know if we’ve got the time.” 

“Right,” Nick says, looking at him carefully and pretending he’s not. 

Louis knows Nick thinks Louis has some issue with him, or at the very least, that he used to have some issue. And Louis does think Nick is too tall and very annoying, for sure, but it’s not like he’s ever treated Louis bad, and he’s always had Harry’s back, and he’s sometimes funny, when Louis is feeling particularly generous with his definition of funny, and he’s— he’s an alright person, a good one, even. 

So really, there’s no problem with Nick except for the fact that Louis is in love with him, and that’s a newer development, albeit one that pangs loudly in Louis’s chest.

“Can’t believe he goes by Willy,” Louis says, after an awkward stretch of silence. 

“I can,” Nick says. “I wouldn’t expect any less of Harry, honestly.” 

“He’s ridiculous.” Louis agrees. “Do you really think he wants to get married?”

“They are engaged,” Nick says.

“Still,” Louis says. “Harry. Married.”

“To someone named Willy,” Nick says, and Louis snorts. 

“I wish they still did the bit of the ceremony where they ask people to object,” Louis says. “Speak now or forever hold your peace, and all that.”

“Harry would love it if you objected,” Nick says. 

“Harry just loves theatrics,” Louis says. “So does Will. Those two are gonna combust, if things ever go south.”

“Maybe that’s why they’re so sure it’s gonna work out.” 

Louis looks at Nick. “Do you think they’d be okay? If they got married?”

Nick shrugs, looks at the floor like he’s avoiding Louis’s eyes. “It’s a stupid choice. Risky move, too.”

“That’s not an answer,” Louis says. 

“Well,” Nick says, “Harry’s like a cat when it comes to stupid choices. Tends to land on his feet when he makes them.”

Louis doesn’t know why Nick isn’t meeting his gaze, but it’s intentional in a way that makes Louis’s heart race, which is very much not something he can handle right now. 

“We should go back out there,” Louis says. “Make sure everything’s going according to plan.” 

“You sound like someone who wants to dance but doesn’t want to admit it,” Nick says.

He’s not wrong, but Louis just ignores him and leads them out of the bathroom, hoping that being around Nick will be easier when they’re not alone. 

Louis should probably actually sort this out, one of these days. 

 

Louis ends up dancing a lot. 

He dances with Harry, and with Will, and with Mitch, who is a pretty terrible dancer, but puts a lot of heart into it, so he almost pulls it off. Louis dances with people whose names he doesn’t even know, and of course he ends up dancing with Niall, and he even ends up dancing near enough to Nick that, if he turned towards him just a little, they could, hypothetically, be dancing together. 

But Louis and Nick are only barely starting to be friends, and they’ve been having sex for years, and Louis is in love with Nick, and somehow that all seems to add up to them not being the kinds of people who dance with each other at parties. 

Louis doesn’t ignore him, though. Kind of the opposite— it’s Nick’s playlist, and Louis is a musician with loads of opinions, so he keeps a steady stream of commentary going in Nick’s ear. 

When the song switches to something slow and gentle, that sounds like a kiss in the rain at the end of the kind of movie that Harry makes him watch, it takes Louis by surprise. 

He knows that this it’s part of the plan. It’s the whole fucking point of the plan. The feeling Louis is feeling right now is the exact kind of feeling Shawn and Niall should be feeling, except the song starts when Louis’s gaze is fixed on Nick, and that makes it hard to think about the plan, or anything besides the way the light is catching on Nick’s eyelashes. 

“Is this really the song you went with?” Louis says, as if it’s not an objectively perfect choice. Louis is a living, breathing example of the effects of looking at the object of your affections while Sixpence None The Richer plays in the background. It’s an experience that he wouldn’t recommend, unless you’re a fan of feeling like your feelings are about to tear open your chest and crawl all over your face and expose your pathetic crush on your best friend’s best friend. 

“It’s a good song,” Nick says.

“Cheesy.”

“So?” Nick nods in Niall’s direction. “They’re cheesy.”

Shawn and Niall are, in fact, standing awkwardly and blushing at each other, like kids at a school dance who are dancing around the idea of dancing together. 

It’s sickening, in a way that makes Louis’s chest ache with jealousy, which is stupid, because that’s not Louis, and he doesn’t even want it to be, but— they’re so clearly in love, and over their shoulder, Louis can see Harry and Will being so clearly in love, and Louis can’t imagine being loved back like that. It’s too much, the way they’re looking at each other, but Louis wants to drown in it the way they are.

“I guess it’s kind of cute,” Louis says, instead of any of that. 

Nick laughs, but it sounds like it’s more for show. “This might be the closest to romantic I’ve ever seen you get.”

“That’s not true,” Louis says. “I can be very romantic.” 

“Well, I’ve never seen it.” 

Louis frowns. “Why would—” he starts, but he closes his mouth when he thinks better of it, but it must already be too late, because Nick’s face is starting to fall. 

“I suppose that’s right,” Nick says.

“That’s not how I meant it,” Louis says, even though he’s pretty sure Nick had been trying to make it sound like a joke.

“It’s fine, it’s not…” Nick’s voice trails off. “It’s fine,” he repeats, with a small shrug that Louis absolutely hates. 

“I can be romantic,” Louis insists, more to himself than to Nick, and then, before he can think better of it, he holds out a hand. “Come on, then.”

Nick eyes it skeptically. “What are you doing?” 

“Dancing, hopefully,” Louis says, and he’s not sure if it’s something in his face or the way the song swells to a chorus that gets Nick to take his hand, but either way, he does, and Louis’s heart might beat out of his chest, but he can’t bring himself to mind at all, not when Nick looks so happy. 

“Louis Tomlinson,” Nick says, looking impressed, and relieved, and something else that Louis isn’t even going to try to unpack. He puts his free hand on Louis’s waist, and the touch feels weirdly intimate, which is absurd, considering that Louis had his hand on his cock twenty minutes ago, but it’s— it’s different, having other people around to see, and having to think about the way Nick’s eyes are softly focused on their feet as his cheeks turn a little pink. If Louis didn’t know any better, he’d swear Nick’s palms are sweating, but that doesn’t make any sense, because all this nervous bullshit is Louis’s, not Nick’s.

“You’re leading?” Louis asks, raising an eyebrow.

“S’only because I’m taller, don’t worry,” Nick says. “I trust that you’ll be your usual bossy self.” 

Louis takes a large step forward, slightly off the beat, and Nick stumbles back a little but goes with it, laughing. 

“That part of your romantic routine?” Nick says, teasing. 

Louis doesn’t really have a romantic routine; he doesn’t do this with people that often, can’t even remember the last time he danced properly with someone who wasn’t just a friend, or, like, someone in his family.

Not that Nick really counts as a real dance partner, but Louis’s brain isn’t doing the best job of internalizing that, no matter how many times he repeats it. It’s probably because Nick’s making this terribly soft face at him. 

“Shut up and give me a twirl, dickhead,” Louis says, and Nick complies. 

It’s weird, turning under Nick’s arm and laughing like it’s the easiest thing in the world, and it’s weirder falling against Nick’s chest, a little dizzy and very light. Nothing should feel light right now, probably; this moment is big, strangely close and way, way too happy, and even though Louis’s in Canada and everyone else he knows here is paired off with someone else, and even though he’s spent his evening on some weird matchmaking mission to stop Harry from fucking up his own life beyond repair, he feels… okay. He feels  _ good.  _ Nick is smiling, and Louis is happy, and it’s just a nice moment with nothing there to make it feel like the sky is falling. 

His heart feels kind of full, and the whole thing is bright and lovely. It’s just Nick and Louis and the cheesiest song on the planet, and right now, Louis wouldn’t trade this for anything. 

“You’re fun when you drop the disagreeable act,” Nick says, a little dumb and very fond. 

Louis makes an indignant noise. “Excuse you, I’m always perfectly agreeable.” 

“You’re not,” Nick says, laughing as he shakes his head. “It’s okay, it’s part of your charm.” 

“So I have charm now?” Louis says. 

Nick squeezes his hand. “Something like that,” he says. 

There’s a moment where they’re just standing there, staring into each other’s eyes, and the chorus of the song is starting up again. Louis idly thinks that it really is an objectively great song to set a romantic moment to, but the more pressing thoughts in his head are all about Nick’s face, closer than Louis can really handle. 

This is the part where Louis would usually drag him off to somewhere private and get Nick’s dick in his mouth to stop himself from doing something stupid, like kissing him gently or telling him he loves him, but that’s not really an option right now. Even if he wanted to break this moment—which a part of him does, but a larger, louder part of him doesn’t—he’s not even sure he knows how. 

Thankfully, Nick tears his eyes away from Louis, and Louis feels himself let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. 

He tries not to think about the feeling in his gut that’s a little too close to disappointment for his liking.  

“Looks like you’re not the only one in the mood to be romantic tonight,” Nick says, nodding at something over Louis’s shoulder, and when Louis looks, he sees Shawn and Niall locked in what might actually be the softest kiss in the history of kissing. It’s barely even a kiss, really, just two smiles gently pressed against each other. 

It’s so full of love that it’s actually hard for Louis to breathe for a second, and he doesn’t even know what to feel besides overwhelmed. It’s a little like being punched in the stomach, the way there’s suddenly a Nick-shaped hole inside of him that’s suddenly empty again. 

“Guess our work here is done, then,” Louis says, hoping his voice sounds normal. He’s honestly not sure if it does or not, can barely hear it over the loneliness clanging about in his chest. “Wedding’s off.” 

“It’s for the best,” Nick says, like he’s trying to reassure Louis, or maybe himself. 

It  _ is  _ for the best, objectively, and Louis knows this. He shouldn’t need to be convinced that Harry not getting married to his boyfriend of only a few months is smart, and will end up better off for him in the long run, but— 

He’d gotten a little too caught up in the romance of things, is all. 

“They look so fucking happy,” Louis says. 

“Yeah,” Nick says. “Wonder if Niall’s gonna be even more cheerful from now on. Is that even possible?” 

“It’s Niall,” Louis says. “It’s always possible.” 

Nick chuckles softly at that, and suddenly, it’s too  _ much, _ seeing Niall and Shawn get the happy ending that Louis wants to share with Nick, not being able to stop feeling sorry for himself long enough to feel happy for Niall, having to spend his entire evening holding Harry back from eloping with his beautiful hockey player boyfriend because love is just that easy, when you’re Harry Styles. 

“I’ve got to get out of here,” Louis says, mostly by accident, but when Nick turns to give him a curious look, Louis just turns on his heels and walks back toward the bathrooms, willing himself to not cry, because he has to draw a line somewhere. 

He ends up wandering out a back door, into an alley that’s probably mostly used by smokers, if the cigarette butts are anything to go by. Louis suddenly finds himself wishing he had a pack on him, but he doesn’t, and he’s guessing that he’s not gonna find many smokers in a crowd comprising mostly singers and athletes. 

That’s probably for the best. It really is a bad habit. 

He kicks at the crap on the ground, considers punching the brick wall before deciding it’s not worth it, and then he just rests his head against it, wondering when the fuck his heartbeat’s going to return to normal. It’s not like this has never happened before, and it always settles down eventually, just a matter of when. 

Before that when, the door opens, and William Nylander sticks his head out. 

“Hi,” Willy says. “Is there any chance you’ve seen Marns?” 

“Mitch?” Louis says. “No, I haven’t.” Which is the truth; he hasn’t seen Mitch, not since before he made the terrible choice of dancing with Nick fucking Grimshaw, anyway. 

Well. The terrible choice hadn’t been the dancing, so much as it had been letting himself enjoy it, but, semantics. 

“Alright,” Willy says. “Harry’s looking for you, I think.” 

“Did he tell you the wedding’s off?” Louis says, half-hoping that he’s dropping some bombshell that will shake the foundation of Harry’s relationship. Not end it, but— whatever. He’s feeling vindictive, and it’s not like Harry wouldn’t deserve it, keeping shit like that from his fiancé. 

Willy looks pretty unphased, though. “I’ll let you two talk that out.” 

“Right.” 

There’s a beat of silence, and Louis’s very much hoping that Will is just going to go away, but he doesn’t, just stands there, like he’s trying to work up the courage to say something. 

“We know it sounds ridiculous,” Willy says. “Us getting married, I mean.” 

“You know that, I’m not sure Harry does,” Louis says. 

“He does,” Willy insists. “You know him, he’s not… he’s more careful than he lets on, y’know?” 

Louis shrugs. He really, really wishes he had a cigarette right now. 

“I wouldn’t be doing this if I thought it could fuck things up between us,” Willy says. “Neither would he. It’s kind of— out there, I guess, but it’s not like we haven’t thought about that.” 

“Have you tried thinking about it more?” Louis says. “I really think you could stand to do that.” 

“I’m sure I’ll hear plenty of that from my own teammates,” Willy says. 

Louis looks at Willy, who’s got a more serious expression on than Louis’s ever seen on him. “Well, he made me a promise, so,” Louis says. “There’s a chance they won’t even know about it.” 

“They’re very nosy,” Willy says. “Marns already guessed the whole thing.”

“Smart guys,” Louis says. He bites his lip. “Just… be careful, alright? Whatever happens. Be careful with yourself, and with him, too.” 

“Got it,” Willy says. “I should go find Mitch.” 

“Good luck,” Louis says, and Willy goes back inside, leaving Louis alone with cigarette butts once more. 

 

_ niall + shawn has been a thing 4 a week,  _ Nick texts him, before Harry gets a chance to rub the loophole in Louis’s face, which wouldn’t end well for Louis. He’s not in the mood for a long chat about Nick Grimshaw tonight, and that’s probably where that conversation would go.  _ u didnt get them together, so haz says wedding’s on.  _

Louis isn’t particularly surprised, or even disappointed, really. He’s mostly just kind of… beaten down. Tired. 

He almost forgets that he made plans to catch up with Niall after, but Niall doesn’t, because Niall is a great friend and human being, who Louis almost certainly doesn’t deserve. 

Niall only spends twenty minutes talking about Shawn. Louis is expecting it, and lets it happen, because these things are exciting, even if they happened mostly without Louis knowing. They’ve been on the down-low, apparently, so it’s very possible that Harry hadn’t been lying earlier when he said they weren’t together. Louis is still a little convinced that this whole thing is some wild plot Harry contrived to get him and Nick to spend time together, though, which is— it’s not like Harry even knows about the fact that they’ve been hooking up, as far as Louis knows. He suspects, and he hints, but he’s never actually asked either of them. 

Mostly, he seems convinced that Louis and Nick are perfect for each other and should be together forever, which is ridiculous, because to most people, they’re barely even friends. Tonight’s been a weird anomaly, all the soft friendly crap they’ve done. They’re not like Niall and Shawn, who are literally, actually perfect together. 

“Anyway,” Niall says, after a ten minute monologue about Shawn’s eyelashes that Louis had mostly tuned out of. “Enough about me, what’s new with you?” 

Louis shrugs. “Y’know, I’m just a fucking idiot.” 

“That’s not new,” Niall says, but he sounds a little gentler, more attentive, an unspoken,  _ wanna talk about it?  _ heard loud and clear by Louis. 

He’s not sure if he does, really, but he maybe should. It’s tiring, pining like this on his own. 

“I think I’ve fallen for someone,” Louis says. “Not feeling great about my chances.” 

“It’s not Harry, is it?” 

Louis shakes his head glumly, and thinks, not for the first time, that his life would be way, way easier if he was secretly in love with Harry. 

“I don’t suppose you want to tell me who it is,” Niall says. 

“Not particularly,” Louis says. “Doesn’t really matter, though.” 

“Alright,” Niall says. “If you change your mind, I’ll be here to listen.” 

“I appreciate it,” Louis says, and he means it genuinely, even if it mostly comes out sad. “Anyway, let’s talk about this surprise wedding we’re groomsmen in tomorrow, yeah?”

“Talk about a fucking idiot,” Niall says, and Louis even manages to muster a smile, even if he doesn’t quite feel like it. 

 

Louis ends up going from drunk to drunker while he’s out with Niall, but he doesn’t send Nick any sad lonely drunk dick pics or go to his hotel room, which he counts as a win. 

Unfortunately, Nick fucks up all that hard work by showing up outside Louis’s door the next morning, his hair looking worse and even cuter than usual. Louis really hates his life, sometimes. 

“I’ve been enlisted to pick up Liam Payne at the airport,” Nick says, looking very unhappy about it. 

“Can’t he take a cab, or something?” 

“Apparently not,” Nick says. “Harry’s worried about him leaving his luggage in the trunk. Has that happened before?” 

“Once or twice,” Louis says. “He’ll start talking to someone when he steps out of the car, and the driver will be off before he remembers to grab his crap from the back.” 

“Well,” Nick says. “Wouldn’t want that happening on the day of the wedding, now, would we.” 

“So you’ve got to pick him up, then?” Louis says. 

“Harry’s gonna manage to be the first person to go all groomzilla about eloping,” Nick says, looking downright miserable. 

“Is he actually screaming at you?” 

“Well, no,” Nick says. “But he’s manipulating me. With his face.” 

“You really need to develop a thicker skin for his dimples,” Louis says. 

“It was the eyelashes this time, actually,” Nick says. “He was batting them.” 

“Are you sure you’re not just secretly bad at saying no to him?” Louis says. 

“I’m unsecretly bad at saying no to everyone,” Nick says, which is way too many negatives for Louis to follow this early in the morning. “Anyway, I need to get a car.”

“What, like, a hire car?” 

“He’s arranged for us to borrow something,” Nick says. “From one of the ice hockey boys.” 

“Which ice hockey boy? And what do you mean by ‘us’?” 

“I don’t know, I just have the address,” Nick says. 

“And?” 

“And what?” 

“And, I asked you two questions,” Louis says. Nick is really pushing his nonexistent-at-this-hour patience. 

“Ah, yes,” Nick says. “Well, I was thinking you could come with me.” 

Louis squints at him, suspicious. “Why?” 

“Because I’d like the help,” Nick says. “And the company’s passable, so.” 

“Fuck you, I’m a delight,” Louis says. “You don’t need my help to drive a car, though.” 

“They drive on a different side of the road here.” 

“You’ve done it,” Louis says. 

“No, I haven’t,” Nick says. 

“You’ve been to LA.” 

“I took cabs everywhere, there.” 

Louis doesn’t have any particular reason to think that Nick’s lying, but he does have a gut feeling, a general sense that Nick isn’t letting on the whole truth. 

You can’t exactly call someone out based on a gut feeling, though, so Louis’s sort of stuck. 

“Fine,” Louis says. “I’ll chauffeur you around all day, if you absolutely need me to.” 

Nick looks strangle flustered at that, which throws Louis off even more. “Well, don’t sound so upset about it. If you have better plans, you can— I dunno.” He shrugs, a little frantic. “I’ll figure out something else.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Louis says, confused, because Nick had just gotten Louis to agree. He really needs to make up his mind about the answer he wants to hear if he’s gonna ask Louis for things before he’s had a proper cup of tea.

“I’m not being stupid,” Nick says, a bit nonsensical. “I mean— does this mean you’re coming?” 

Louis thinks about it, and— well, it’s not like he actually does have anything better to do with his day. 

“I’ll keep the streets of Toronto safe,” Louis says. “You’re calling the cab, though.” 

Nick rolls his eyes. “Diva.” 

“Takes one to know one,” Louis shoots back easily. “Alright, I need a shower before we go.” 

“So do I,” Nick says. “Want to meet back here?” 

Louis’s self preservation instincts haven’t kicked in yet, so he can’t really stop himself from looking Nick up and down and saying, “Or you could stick around.” The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Join me, if you like.” 

“What, you need help washing your back?” Nick says, and it’s almost smooth, except for the way he’s still blushing a little.  

“Maybe,” Louis says. “I’m sure there’s something you could lend a hand with.” 

Nick snorts at that, which is kind of fair. “Subtle.” 

“Yet effective?” Louis says, waggling his eyebrows. 

“Unfortunately.” Nick sighs, all faux put-upon dramatics, but there’s a fond smile on his lips, so Louis doesn’t even bother with pretending to be offended. 

 

Showering together is great, because handjobs, but the person whose car they’re borrowing lives all the way out in the suburbs, which is farther away than Louis had expected, so they’re in the cab for a long time. It’s not bad—a little weird, because the driver totally recognizes Louis, and Nick seems to realize that Louis had good reason for asking him to call a cab—but it’s a little more expensive than Louis had realized, so he offers to pay Nick back when they get out of the car. 

“It’s fine,” Nick says. “It wasn’t actually that much money.” 

“I like to keep things even,” Louis says. 

“Well, next time we have to split a cost, you can cover it,” Nick says. 

“How often do the two of us have a cost to split?” Louis says. 

“I’m sure it’ll come up,” Nick says. “We’ll grab a bite to eat and I’ll let you pay the bill, how’s that sound?”  

It sounds… nice, and awful, and altogether too much like a date for Louis to really wrap his head around it. What he should probably do is let it go, except Louis is really bad at doing the things he should probably do. 

“Were you thinking, like, later this afternoon?” Louis says. “Or are we talking about a proper meal?” 

Nick gives Louis a strange look, but he doesn’t look upset or confused, just… Louis doesn’t really know. Whatever it is, it’s not bad, though, so Louis will take it.

“I reckon it depends on what you want to pay for,” Nick says, knocking on the door. They’re in some town whose name Louis isn’t even going to attempt to pronounce, but is not Toronto, and the neighborhood is incredibly suburban. There are nets and basketball hoops in every driveway, including this one, and Louis suspects that when the weather gets nice, children come outside to play in hoards.

Louis hums, shifts back and forth on the balls of his feet. “We’ll see,” he says, and before Nick can answer, the door of the house opens, and they’re greeted by a boy in a backwards baseball cap, who, like most of the hockey playing boys Louis has met this weekend, is altogether too tall. 

“Oh, hey, this is really happening,” the guy says, his eyes landing on Louis. “Sick. Lemme get Mikey.” 

Louis has no fucking clue who Mikey is. Nick looks equally confused. “This is about the car?” he says, sounding unsure. 

“Oh, yeah, I don’t know, I don’t actually live here,” the guy says, and then he turns and yells, “Mikey!” 

“Don’t say anything weird!” a voice calls. 

“I’ll say what I want!” He turns back to Nick and Louis. “I’m Nate, by the way. Mikey and I are friends with Willy’s brother, so this is, like, legit.”

“Oh, did you hear that? It’s legit,” Nick says, not actually under his breath, but Nate doesn’t seem to hear. 

“So are you guys coming to the wedding, then?” Louis asks. 

“Wedding?” Nate says, confused.

“Yeah,” Louis nods, wrinkling his nose a little as he gives a sympathetic sort of smile. “That was my reaction too.” 

“Your reaction to what?” says a voice, and half a second later, there’s another boy—Mikey, Louis assumes—standing in the doorway, a little out of breath and sliding in his socks. He’s not as tall as Nate, but he’s still really fucking tall. 

“Just a little bit of news we got last night,” Nick says easily. “Are you the one with car keys?” 

“Yeah, it’s my buddy’s, so if there’s anything weird in the back, it’s not my fault,” Mikey says, digging through his pocket. “Wow, Alex was for real when he said you guys were Harry’s friends.”

“Harry’s got lots of friends,” Nick says. “I’m sorry, but— out of curiosity, whose car is this?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Mikey says, handing over the keys. “My neighbour, he’s away, he’s got insurance, it’s fine.” 

“Right.” Nick says. “Well, we’ll still try not to crash it.” 

“We  _ won’t _ crash it,” Louis corrects. “I’m gonna be the one driving, and I’m a good driver, just. In case your neighbour’s worried.” 

“You’re driving?” Mikey says, his eyes going wide. Nate’s smiling like this is the funniest thing in the universe, for some reason. 

“If that’s alright,” Louis says, and then, because he’s getting mild fanboy vibes, “uh, if there’s anything we could do really quickly to thank you, we’d be happy to?” 

Mikey just stares at Louis some more, fanboy vibes going from mild to major, and Nate nudges him. “Yo, Cloudsy.” 

“Right,” Mikey says, shaking his head a little, like he’s trying to clear his thoughts. “A selfie would be, like, fucking incredible?”

“There it is,” Nate says, apparently not quite as starstruck. 

Louis ends up staying for a few photos, including one that Nick takes on his phone, where he’s making some stupid face and holding his phone at a very high angle. He doesn’t even look tall in the photo, compared to the other two; Louis looks tiny next to all three of them. 

“I’m making this my phone background,” Nick says gleefully, as they get into the car. “You look like you’re in  _ pain.”  _

“Only because the lot of you are giants,” Louis says. “And I haven’t had time for a cup of tea today.”

“We can get tea,” Nick says. 

“Well, yes, now that we have a car,” Louis says, putting the key in the ignition.

As he drives away, he sees Mikey sitting cross-legged in the doorway, head in his hands. Nate’s crouching beside him and petting his hair, still clearly amused. 

Ice hockey players, Louis decides, are a very tall, very weird kind of human being. He kind of understands why Harry ended up with one. 

 

Liam is, apparently, not expecting to be picked up at the airport in a car with bumper stickers advertising what Louis can only assume are youth hockey teams, so they find him pacing back and forth at arrivals on his phone, looking vaguely lost. 

He hugs Louis for a solid minute before getting in the car.

“Hey, Grimmy,” Liam says cheerfully, as he climbs into the back seat. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“Only because Harry made him,” Louis says. “I’m the one who drove.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re incredibly mature? Because those people are dead wrong,” Nick says, then turns around. “You’re welcome, Liam. How was the flight?”

“Fine, you know,” Liam says. “Slept a bit. Was a bit of a rushed thing. What’s this party tonight, anyway?”

There’s an awkward pause, during which Louis and Nick manage an entire silent conversation with only their eyebrows.

“Guys?” Liam repeats.

Louis clears his throat. “Did Harry not tell you?”

“Tell me what?” Liam says. 

“This party,” Louis says. “Did he not tell you what it was for?”

“No, just that he’d really like me to be there,” Liam says. “Got the next flight I could out.”

“Well, that’s probably for the best,” Nick says. “Congratulations, Liam Payne, you’re about to be a groomsman.”

“A—” Liam squints. “Hang on, what?”

“Harry’s getting married,” Louis says. “We tried to stop it, but couldn’t manage it.”

“Did he not send out invitations?” Liam asks.

“I think it was a sort of spur-of-the-moment thing,” Nick says. “Cheer up, love, you didn’t miss the stag do.”

“Last night wasn’t the stag do?” Louis asks.

“I believe that was the rehearsal,” Nick says. “It’s all very unclear, but I’m pretty sure stag dos have strippers.”

“Will there be time for a stag do?” Louis asks. “I guess we could squeeze one in before the ceremony.”

“Sure, if someone we know is willing to give the groom-to-be a lap dance,” Nick says. “You up for it, Liam?”

Liam, for his part, still looks very confused. “Harry’s getting married?”

“Yes,” Louis says. “To the hockey player. The one he met at an airport.”

“Right,” Liam says, and then he slowly starts to nod. “Right, yeah, okay.”

“We all caught up?” Nick says.

“Yep,” Liam says, back to cheerful. “I’d prefer it if you found someone else, but I’ll step up in a pinch.”

“Step up?” Louis asks.

“For the stag do,” Liam clarifies. “You should get a real stripper, but if you need, I can give Harry a lap dance, it’s no trouble.”

“I think that makes you the best man,” Nick says, and Louis snorts.

 

It’s not so much a stag do as a small reunion, but Louis’ll take it. 

Louis and Liam meet up with Harry, and hugs are exchanged all around, and adequately photographed by Nick; Zayn was picked up by another one of Will’s teammates, and he’s apparently staying at the same hotel the rest of them are at, currently napping. 

Unfortunately, Niall’s phone is dead, so it takes a bit of work before the reunion really begins. 

It’s not actually that hard to track him down. He leaves a breadcrumb trail of new friends in every new city, and Toronto is no exception, so it only takes a few phone calls on Harry’s part to track him down. 

He’s apparently playing golf with a few of Will’s teammates, which is fine, because the end result involves Liam and Louis hijacking a golf cart and tracking him down on the course.

Which is fun. 

Except for the thing that happens right before, with Nick, which is… weird.

Like, Nick is being weird today in general, but right before Louis is about to get out of the car in the parking lot of the golf course, Nick makes this weird coughing noise that sounds a little bit like he’s trying to say ‘um’ but gave up halfway through. Louis is about 80% sure it’s Nick’s way of asking him to stay.

“So, you bought me a cup of tea today,” Nick says, which is really not what Louis expected to hear.

“Yeah,” Louis says. “Owed you for the taxi, right?”

“Wasn’t the same amount,” Nick says.

“Alright, well, I’ll spot you for something else, then,” Louis says, and the thing is, Nick doesn’t care if Louis pays him back for the Lyft in the first place, so he doesn’t know why he’s bringing it up, or why he’s acting like he’s nervous about it. 

“I don’t really care about the money, just— I was thinking.” Nick gulps. “It might be a good idea for us to do a proper dinner.”

Louis’s heart stops beating. 

He should say words. He knows he should say words. He know he should at least say word, singular, and that if he can only manage one word, that word should be  _ yes,  _ or  _ yeah,  _ or any variation of that which conveys affirmation, but Louis opens his mouth and finds that he can’t make a single sound. 

It’s awful. The car is silent, and the air is heavy, and Louis is legitimately concerned that the windows will fog up from nervous sweat. Nick is staring at his lap, Louis is staring at Nick, everything is weird and loaded and awkward, and Louis should say  _ yes,  _ but his brain isn’t kicking in. 

Nick wants a meal. 

A proper meal. With Louis. 

Louis’s entire being is having trouble accepting that. This probably means that he should recalibrate his self defense mechanisms, but right now, he’s too busy being overwhelmed by Nick to do anything useful. 

“Right,” Nick says, when the silence has stretched just past too far. “This was a bad idea.”

It wasn’t, and Louis would tell Nick that, but all that comes out is, “Uh.”

“I should go,” Nick says. “Zayn is onto something with this napping thing, I think, I’m— I’m absolutely knackered.” 

One of these days, Louis will be able to say the things he wants to, but today is not one of those days. 

“So long,” Nick says, and before Louis has the chance to try and probably fail at saying goodbye, he’s gone. 

“Bye, Nick,” Louis says to the empty car. “I fancy you quite a bit, so dinner seems lovely, thanks” 

The car doesn’t say anything back, because it’s a car, and Louis very much wants to put his head on the steering wheel and drown in the sound of the horn. 

 

When they find Niall, he’s smiling, which is normal, and also wearing an outfit that matches Mo and one of Will’s other teammates—Jake, apparently—which isn’t quite normal, but isn’t exactly surprising, either. 

Louis is only a little offended that Niall never wore a matching outfit with him. Liam is quite offended, and says as much, to which Niall responds that if they wanted matching outfits, they should’ve played golf with him. 

“I think we have a few more,” Jake offers. “It’s a family thing. There are a bunch.”

The outfit in question involves a blue flat cap and a knitted orange tank top, and there are some situations in which Louis would wear that, but all of them involve alcohol, irony, and Harry, none of which are present at the moment. 

“I think I’ll pass,” Louis says. “And unfortunately, I think we’ll have to steal Niall. Groom’s orders.”

“Come on, you can tell me all about your new boy,” Liam says.

Niall perks up, and Louis would roll his eyes, if the look of love on Niall’s face didn’t put an awful pit of regret in his stomach.

Louis should fix the Nick thing, or at least figure out how he’s gonna fix the Nick thing, but, like—

It’s hard.

It’s hard, and it hurts to think about, and— and Louis is fucking busy, alright? He’s got a friend who’s getting married, friends he’s seeing for the first time in a while, and a lot of catching up to do, so it’s just easier to avoid thinking about Nick Grimshaw altogether. He has time for passing thoughts at most, and right now, nothing about Nick is a passing thought, save for the rumblings of worry and waves of fear that occasionally overtake him. Those are passing, maybe, but they’re indirect thoughts, Louis reasons. When he tries to think directly about Nick, those thoughts—

They’re not passing, and Louis doesn’t really know how to deal with them, so he just— doesn’t. 

It’s fine, for a while. 

The five of them set up camp in Harry’s flat for the afternoon, which is very clearly Will and Harry’s, though Will nominally still has some other address further into the city. But Will apparently likes tea almost as much as Louis does, so Louis has about ten cups over the course of the afternoon, because not thinking about Nick is only marginally easier than thinking about Nick.

Liam doesn’t give Harry a lap dance, because it’s the middle of the afternoon, though he does half-jokingly offer, and Harry seems into that idea, but he’s curled up in Zayn’s lap and isn’t keen on moving. Zayn, for his part, is doing a terrible job of pretending to mind. It’s nice watching the two of them be like this again; it’s all very nostalgic and sweet, and Louis’s glad that this is something they get to go back to, even though everyone’s got solo careers and Harry’s off getting married to someone they barely know. They have closeness to fall back on, when they’re reunited, even when the circumstances are really, really weird.

“So,” Niall says, “as groomsmen, is there anything we’re expected to do?”

“Nah,” Harry says, reaching across Louis to pinch Niall’s cheek. “Just show up and look pretty in pictures. Make sure your date does the same.”

“Were we expected to bring dates?” Liam says, looking concerned. “I don’t know if I can swing one in the next few hours. Don’t have a ton of friends in Canada.”

“I’ve got your back,” Zayn says, patting Liam’s knee. 

“What am I meant to do, then?” Louis says.

“Didn’t you say there was someone you fancied?” Niall says, probably trying to be helpful and not make all the blood drain from Louis’s face, which is what actually ends up happening. “Can’t you ask him?” he continues, like the world is still spinning and hasn’t completely stopped on its axis. 

Louis gulps, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “That’s not quite an option,” he says. “Unfortunately.”

“Well, what about Grimmy?” Liam asks. 

Louis doesn’t do as good a job composing himself, this time.

“That’s also not quite an option,” he says, trying and failing to sound casual. His palms are sweating; his face is red; there’s a lump in his throat the size of a hockey puck.

The boys notice almost instantly, and suddenly, all eyes are on Louis. 

All he can do is go redder. 

“Grimmy, eh?” Harry says, looking fucking delighted, because he’s terrible and awful and a traitor and the absolute  _ worst _ . 

“I’m not talking about this,” Louis says.

“Yes you are,” Harry says. “It’s my wedding day and I want you to, so you are.”

“Is Grimmy the person you—” Niall starts, but Louis cuts him off.

“It’s nothing,” he says. “Really. Please don’t make this into a big deal.”

“But there’s something?” Liam asks.

Louis is still trying to figure out the best way to answer that when Zayn says, “Of course there’s something, half of Will’s friends are placing bets on it.”

Unfortunately, the ground doesn’t open up and swallow Louis whole, though he thinks that would be preferable to the wave of panic that rolls over him. “What?”

“The ones that picked me up at the airport,” Zayn says. “Mitch and Auston, I think? They had some wager going with Will on it.” He shrugs, shifting Harry in his lap. “Dunno the details, but apparently they’ve been arguing the technicalities of it.”

“What technicalities are there to argue?” Liam says.

“Something about a dance, and a shag in a bathroom?” Zayn says. “I couldn’t really follow.” 

“Wait, who shagged in a bathroom?” Niall says.

“Nobody,” Louis says, because he really hadn’t thought anybody heard that, and he really, really doesn’t want any part of this conversation to be happening at all. 

“Well, actually, you and Grimmy, according to Mitch,” Zayn says.

“And then they danced?” Liam asks.

“They did dance,” Harry says. “That part we all saw.”

“Before or after they—”

“Can we talk about something else?” Louis pleads. “Anything else, really. Don’t care what it is.” 

“But now I’m confused,” Liam says.

“Me too,” Niall says, and the both of them turn to Zayn, expectant. 

“I’ve told you everything I know,” Zayn says.

“All I know is that Nick and Louis are in love,” Harry says.

“So it was Grimmy you were talking about,” Niall says, turning to Louis.

“No,” Louis says, shaking his head. “No, Harry’s just being weird.”

“I know you’re in love, even if you don’t know it yet,” Harry says.

“Well, Louis knows he’s in love with someone,” Niall says.

“And he allegedly shagged Nick in the bathroom,” Zayn adds.

“And danced with him,” Liam chips in. “But that’s not allegedly, I guess.”

Louis groans. “So that’s a no to talking about something else, then.”

“We’re nosy because we care,” Harry says, and Louis shoots him a glare. Naturally, Harry is unphased by it.

“Fine, then,” Louis says. “We hook up sometimes. It hasn’t been a big deal, except I fucked it up a bit, so now it’s a slightly larger deal. That’s all.”

“So last night—” Liam starts.

“We shagged in the bathroom, we danced, and that’s who I was talking about to Niall, yes,” Louis says, pinching the bridge of his nose as he squeezes his eyes shut. “Any more questions?”

After a beat, Harry slowly raises his hand. “I’ve got one.”

Louis sighs. “Yes, Harold?”

“Why are you leaving out the part where he asked you on a date earlier?”

Louis very much wishes he had better taste in friends whom he loves unconditionally. 

“Because that’s the bit I fucked up,” Louis says. “How do you know about that, anyway?”

“How does anyone know about anything, really,” Harry says, something between wistful and dismissive. “We’re all just out here, acquiring knowledge, you know.”

“I truly hope your boyfriend knows he’s marrying the weirdest person in the face of the planet,” Louis says. 

Harry flashes Louis a terribly dimpled smile. “He’s aware.”

“How’d you fuck up being asked on a date?” Liam asks.

Louis shrugs. “Froze up, I guess.”

“So where’s Grimmy?” Niall asks.

“Wallowing,” Harry says. “According to Spotify, he’s listening to a lot of sad music.”

“How sad?” Zayn asks.

“Celine Dion,” Harry says.

Zayn grimaces. “Yeah, that’s bad.”

“Well, it’s alright, Louis can fix it,” Liam says. “I reckon it’ll be pretty easy, if you both want to date each other.”

“Which they do,” Niall says. 

“I guess,” Louis says. “I just don’t know how to bring it up, or what to ask for, or— I don’t know. Whatever. I’ll figure it out.”

Harry shifts out of Zayn’s lap and plops himself down in Louis’s. “I love you,” he says. “And I love Grimmy. And now you love each other, and it’s everything I could have ever dreamed of, so I will not let you fuck it up because of a little thing like not knowing what to say, especially not today. You’re not allowed to self-sabotage at my wedding. It’s against the rules.”

“I can self-sabotage anywhere,” Louis says. “It’s my greatest skill.”

“But if you make yourself sad, and you make Nick sad, then I’ll be sad, and you’re terrible at making me sad. You can never commit to it.”

“I really do hate you,” Louis says.

“You love me,” Harry says.

“Those aren’t mutually exclusive,” Zayn says, and Louis gives him a fist bump.

“So wait,” Liam says, “we’re actually required to have dates?”

Harry purses his lips, tapping his finger to his chin. “Let’s say yes.”

Louis pushes him out of his lap, and when Harry makes an offended face, he laughs, his chest feeling lighter than it has all day. 

 

It’s not like they have a lot of getting ready to do, but they all go back to their hotel rooms to shower and change before the ceremony.

Naturally, Louis is thinking about Nick.

Or, no— thinking is a generous way of putting it. It’s more that Louis’s mind is more or less a loop of  _ Nick Nick Nick Nick Nick,  _ and he can’t get it to stop, so he listens to it while he gets dressed, and shaves, and fixes up his hair, and a part of him must think that if he goes through his grooming routine faster, the voice will get quieter, because before he knows it, he’s ready to head out the door with too much time on his hands.

It’s a deadly combination, really, this level of restlessness and this many nerves. Louis ought to do something about it. 

He has some half-formed ideas about getting a cup of tea before the ceremony when he walks out the door of his hotel room, but he’s already over caffeinated on top of everything else, so it’s probably not a good idea. He drops that plan pretty quickly, anyway, because he doesn’t want to leave the hotel, and especially doesn’t want to leave when he passes the hotel room that he knows for a fact is Nick’s.

He stops in front of it, stares at the door for a whole three minutes, and then, because it’s gonna happen sooner or later, he knocks.

Nick looks frazzled when he opens the door, but it turns to confusion when he sees Louis’s face. “Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” Louis says, out of breath for no real reason.

There’s a long pause, and Nick just keeps on staring. Louis searches his expression for something else—fear, hurt, heartbreak, cautious optimism—but if there’s anything else there, Nick’s hidden it away carefully enough that Louis can’t find it. 

“This wedding is an awful idea,” Louis says. 

“I know,” Nick says. 

“Will you go with me?”

Nick blinks. “Um.”

“And let me take you out for a proper meal,” Louis says, before he can lose his nerve. “Not to pay you back for a taxi, or anything. Just— so I can take you out.”

Nick just stares at Louis like he’s grown an extra head, and continues to not say anything.

“I liked dancing with you last night,” Louis says, rambling, now, because the silence might actually drive him mad. “And I liked watching you make that playlist, too. I like spending time with you quite a bit, if we’re being honest, and we’re already good at sex together, so I think a date shouldn’t be all that big a deal, all things considered.”

“Alright,” Nick says, and Louis waits for him to say more, but he doesn’t.

“Um,” Louis says, rocking back on his heels, “I don’t know, you can say no, but it seemed like this wedding was a good opportunity—”

“I said alright.”

“—to do something about this massive crush I’ve had—”

“Louis, I said—”

“—because it’s a bit much to keep putting it off when it’s been a few months of this, and there’s a perfectly good wedding for us to attend together.”

“Yes,” Nick says. “I said yes.” 

Louis blinks. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Nick says, and then he gives Louis a small smile, almost hesitant, like he’s afraid that once he starts, it’ll spread across his face and never go away. 

Actually, thinking about it, that’s probably Louis.

“Harry will be delighted,” Louis says.

“Absolutely over the moon,” Nick agrees. “He may be more excited than either of us.”

“More than you, maybe,” Louis says. “Doubt anyone’s more excited than me.” It’s true, though he probably shouldn’t say it; he’s kind of shaking and maybe about to laugh or cry or both, he’s so happy, but he’s doing a decent job keeping the parts that are too much under wraps.

Nick lets out a laugh, something between surprised and amused and overwhelmed. “Louis Tomlinson,” he says.

“What?” Louis says.

Nick shakes his head, grinning from ear to ear. “You really are more romantic than I thought.”

“That’s because you’re an idiot,” Louis says.

“Suppose I am,” Nick says. “Had to be, to not realize you fancied me.”

“It really was quite obvious,” Louis agrees. “There were wagers.”

“Made by who?”

“Ice hockey players.”

Nick scrunches his nose. “Oh, and they’re really not that bright, are they.”

“Well, there is a bright side.”

“At least I’m not as dumb as Harry?” 

“At least you’re not as dumb as Harry.”

Nick cocks his head. “That does help a little, actually. Thank you.”

“Any time,” Louis says, and then he leans up and gives Nick a quick kiss on the cheek before he can overthink it. “I’ll stop by here before the ceremony, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Nick says, turning a lovely shade of pink as he puts his hand to touch the skin where Louis’s lips had just been. “Save at least one dance at the reception.”

“I’ll save you much more than one,” Louis promises, barely joking, and he has to turn away and leave before he does something stupid, like push Nick into his room and kiss him into the bed. Louis’s pretty sure that’d end with them missing the wedding, and neither of them would ever hear the end of it.

If he looks over his shoulder as he walks away so he and Nick can exchange dumb smiles and flirty waves, it’s no one’s business but their own.

 

It’s actually quite a charming wedding. 

In a terrible kind of way, of course. It’s Harry getting married to a guy named Willy, so of course it’s got all sorts of awfulness written all over it. They’re both so happy they’re smug with it, and Louis will maintain for the rest of eternity that this wedding should not have happened, but watching them standing up there, smiling like total idiots, he feels like this terrible idea might actually work out. If anyone can spin a whirlwind romance into a lifetime of happiness, it’s probably Harry Styles.

Louis may shed a few tears. Whatever.

“Aw,” Nick says. “You have feelings.”

“No I don’t,” Louis says, rubbing under his eyes. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, shut up.”

“It’s cute,” Nick says, wiping a tear off of Louis’s face. It’s the sappiest thing Louis has seen all day, including the wedding ceremony. His heart pounds in his chest in the best possible way, and he almost leans in and kisses Nick right then and there.

“You’re disgusting,” Louis says, not making any attempt at all to move away. “Get your hands off me.”

“Hmmm,” Nick says, throwing an arm over Louis’s shoulders. “Don’t think so, love, sorry.”

“Dickhead,” Louis says, wrapping his hand around Nick’s waist. “Come on, let’s go get drunk and celebrate Hazza throwing his life away once and for all.”

Nick kisses his head. “Couldn’t think of anyone better to share this celebration with.”

“Are you always this cheesy when you like a bloke?” Louis asks.

“You bring it out in me,” Nick says. “It’s because you get all angry about it. Like a grumpy kitten.”

“I’m a furious and majestic lion,” Louis says, indignant. 

“Right, of course,” Nick says. “So majestic.”

“Hey,” Harry calls. “You guys aren’t allowed to be cuter than us at our wedding.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Nick says.

“Yes you would,” Louis says. “You love to be the center of attention.”

“I don’t stand a chance, in a room with those two,” Nick says.

“Then let them have their night,” Louis says. “We can spend the night drinking, dancing, and trying to figure out whose car I’ve been driving.”

“Did Willy not know?”

Louis shakes his head.

“Ah, well,” Nick says, “I’m sure it’ll sort itself out.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> "no one asked but if this fic ever sees the light of day please know that the 'mikey mcleod was a larry' subtext is 100% intentional" -an actual message i sent ang a week ago
> 
> this 'verse is spiraling out of control. 
> 
> i'm lottswrites on tumblr!


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